A "mixed-up" kid finally comes to terms with the confusing circumstances of his life and uncovers a clear path to his future. Adam Rosen is a contributor to YO! Youth Outlook, a publication by and about Bay Area youth published by Pacific News Service.

At the age of 11, I went to temple with my father for the first time. I was very excited but as I walked towards the door I got scared. My father started speaking to a person in a language I'd never heard before. It sounded like English words with mixed-up letters.

We walked into a candle-lit room and went up the stairs. My father put a kippot (skullcap) on my head and told me to keep it on until we left. He held my hand and we walked into the hall where people were praying. Women were in the back rows, and men in the front. All these people were white, making me feel awkward. I wondered why many of them were staring at me.

I felt out of place going to temple.

My sister Helena and I were born in Korea. When I was 5 and she was 3 we were adopted and moved to the United States by an Israeli father and Italian mother, both Jewish. I call myself a Jewish person with a Korean face.

It was confusing to be Jewish. My friends were either Buddhist or Christian; I felt left out. At Christmas, all of my friends would celebrate but I did not. My ex-girlfriend came to my house while my family was celebrating Chanukah, praying and lighting the Menorah. When she saw them, she looked at me in astonishment. She never really believed I was Jewish.

As I grew, I became more comfortable with that fact but I was still very confused, feeling lost and alone. I think this is one reason I got into trouble. At 13, I started hanging out with Asian gangsters. I did drugs and got into a lot of fights. When I was 15, I joined a Chinese gang and did things that finally caught up with me: by the time I was 16, I was locked up for assault with a deadly weapon and armed robbery.

I got into trouble because I felt I didn't have a family. I felt the people who adopted me didn't care about me because they weren't my biological parents.

Eventually -- when I saw that after all the stress and worry I gave my family, my parents were still there for me no matter what -- I figured out that they did care and were my real parents. I didn't feel alone and empty any more.

With time and effort, I changed. I went to school, got my degree, and started working. I felt good about making my family proud. Another big help were new friends who had the same positive goals I have, friends who all go to college, work, and are happy with who they are. The type of friends I've had and the time I spent with them have had a big influence on my identity.